Little boy's got black on his skin

Kopano Maroga

(University of Cape Town, Dance and Social Anthropology Student and Contemporary Dance Artist)

little boy's got black on his skindoesn't know whether he's nighttime or eyes-shutbut he's got hands made for poking in the darkfor finding the unnamed thinghe touches himself like something ancient and brokentalks in a whisper lest he loses his wordsknows that the world is made for takersand he's already given upyou can find him with his dark eyes cast skywardor carving sunlight out of his wristsmining the darkness for diamonds

little boy's got small hands but big ideasloves science but hates numberslikes to think he's made of coalbecause he knows what pressure can do to things of little value

little boy's got black on his skinand it won't let him outhe speaks pretty, prettier than those white boyshas got a mouth full of alabaster teeth and chewed paperlips covered in graphitelikes to learn new words so he has more to swallowlikes to look those pretty white boys in the mouthlikes the taste of their nameslikes to swallow them and not come up for airlikes to look at their smiling faces

little boy's not-so-little anymorelikes to play not-so-little games with not-so-little boysthey like to play for keepsso he let's them keep what they takelikes to see how much he can lose without disappearing

little boy's got black on his skinand those white boys tell him it's eating him alivethey call him by everything but his nameso little boy's got a chip on his shoulderdoesn't look up anymoretoo many boulders to roll up the hillreads greek tragedies and recites love poemstells himself love is a house with white walls and a sun rooftells himself love doesn't recognize him so he's got to make himself familiar

little boy's got black on his skinand it burns to touchfolks say he should know better than to play with matchesbut he's been alight since the day he was bornstill loves science, still casts his dark eyes up started renting out his sternum to white boys with sad eyesso now his chest is a dam wall and its threatening breakingwonders how long until the delugepasses time trading his limbs for spare changedusts off the fingerprints and keeps them in a scrapbooktakes long showers

little boy's got black on his skin and the boys in blue always want to touch himsometimes with their hands, sometimes withoutalways with their eyeshe tells them he's been burning since the day he was bornthey never know what to sayhe asks them how they keep finding himthey tell him they follow the ashes

little boy's got black skinand he sees heaven behind his eyelidshe speaks pretty but can't stop screamingfire's burning him up and his chest has sprung a leaklittle boy's got time but no spacetoo many boulders to roll up the hilltoo many diamonds to mine from his skin